


What It Could Have Been

by highwayKing



Series: Mi Familia [1]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M, Feels, Gen, Short One Shot, but don't panic, ends ambiguously, everything is going to be fine, i gave up on it, never mind the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 14:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highwayKing/pseuds/highwayKing
Summary: In what looked to be his final moments Hector is thinking about his family and about what it could have been.





	What It Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Guess what? It's late night and I'm not sleeping. Instead I managed to pen down over 6.000 words in one day and I decided to post them now because I have nothing better to do.
> 
> Also I feel obligated to tell: I'm not native english speaker and the spanish is google translated (that's literally nothing here, but will be more of it in the up coming fic so heads up)
> 
> Previous title: It Was A Grave Dug By Good Intention - it didn't quiet fit :/

Hector vaguely thought that he wasn't hurting anymore. The flashes of light that shock his body felt like a knife raking through him, sharp and unstoppable. A power that left him weak, siphoned away all his energy as if it was nothing and had him falling to the ground, bones creaking and useless.

Every single time it passed it left him feeling as if he was hollow on the inside. Like he was nothing more then paper thin bones ready to rip into pieces at another violent episode.

But it stopped. Or he simply couldn't feel it anymore.

The events of the night still rattled in his skull. What a crazy ride it was. Never in his wildest dreams he would have guessed that he would meet his great great grandson in person and that they would be running around the Land of the Dead in order to get the blessing of his former best friend, only to find out that he had been murdered, and then nearly loosing chamaco to that murderer. 

But it was all well in the end. Miguel was back in the Land of the Living and Ernesto couldn't lay a finger on him anymore. It didn't matter that his photo was lost, his time is already up anyway. There won't be another Dia de Muertos to try and get over that cursed flower bridge. He won't ever get to see his mija again.

Imelda held his hand in a tight grip. "Bastardo," he heard her say. "Don't you dear go now. Just hold on a bit longer."

That's right. Imelda. He was so weak that he couldn't even hold a flower petal up, but she was here and she remained by his side, never letting go of his hand.

Hector briefly wondered if there was anyone or anything out there he could be begging to let him stay. He didn't needed much, just one more day. Now that Imelda was willing to talk to him, to look at him, to hold him, all he needed just one more day just to be with her. She deserved so much more, but that was all he could give. Maybe if he wasn't just a pile of useless yellowed bones then he could make it up to her. If he had a couple more days, a couple more years, an eternity, he could make it up to her.

But he could never do that. To little to late. And there was no one out there to beg for one more day. He could feel himself being pulled apart.

No, he can't go, he refuses. Not now when she was here, when he could tell her how much he loves her, and how proud he is of her. She was always so much stronger then him.

Hector opened his eyes, glad he could do so much. He couldn't make this okay. He couldn't correct the years of loneliness and grief he had caused her and her family, not in the mere seconds he had left. But he could do this much.

"Lo siento," he said, and his voice was just above a whisper. He was afraid he wouldn't be heard. "Lo siento," he tried again, feeling triumph over how the words came louder this time. "I love you so much."

He looked up at Imelda, mi amor, he wanted to call her, but the words choked in his throat.

"Hector," Imelda called, but whatever she was about to say she pushed it down. Instead she steeled herself and readjusted her hold on his hand so that now she was holding it properly. "Don't think about that right now. You have to reserve your energy. You can pull though this."

"I don't know if I can."

"Nonsense. Of course you can."

Hector was vaguely aware of footsteps coming nearer. Then of faces that slowly came into the edge of his vision. If he could turn his head he might be able to see them better. But he didn't needed to see to know who they were. They were Imelda's family, he wasn't sure if he had the right to call them his as well. 

Outside of Oscar and Felipe he didn't know who the rest were, and the twins too were so much different then when he last saw them as little boys. 

When they met that night, barely an hour ago, they all appeared to him as people who lived long lives into an old age. He could be glad for that. Here on the Land of the Dead a long life to look back on was more then appreciated, it was hoped for.

It made his chest ache. To think that he too could have had that, that he could have lived a happy and long life, growing old along with Imelda till both of their hair turned grey. Watching Coco grow up into a young and fierce woman - because he could never imagine her being anything other then like her Mama Imelda; be there when she got married, and then look after his grand children. They could have been singing and dancing and playing music and making shoes and building a family so much bigger than what they had.

If only he had stayed. He cursed Ernesto for killing him. But he cursed himself more for leaving. Why did he ever let himself be convinced that playing for the world was worth anything, when he already had his world back in Santa Cecilia, waiting for him to return home.

But it was too late for regrets. It was too late for apologies. 

He could hear talking. They were talking to him. What tho' he had no idea. Sound didn't reach him anymore and the rays of the raising sun started to hurt his eyes.

Hector closed his eyes and he vaguely remembered feeling weightless before sense slipped away from him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short one shot to start off a series. It was originally only a one shot, but my brain was gracious enough to work overtime. Hope you enjoy reading, tell me what you think.


End file.
